Wild Beasts все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

Oh the sweetest spot
When it's gone, it's gone
Don't make me suffer for that
Just to love me
A final dividend

Between the hurt and the tell of song
Between the flesh and the fondest wrong

watch me! watch me!
the belle of the ball
my heart, my hand and everything I own

and we are the boys
with new shiny shoes
we've seen Them all
and we've chosen you

II'm taping up the windows and the doors
I'm nailing all my pretty things to the floor

Eyes like fire
A tempest in the water
Eyes like mine
A temper like your mother's

Albatross, albatross
How callous the ocean you cross

I, I blame you, I blame you
For all of those things I've been through
Don't feel bad not a pang
It's my neck around which you hang
Like a chain or a tag

Whooooa oooh whoooa ooh ohh

Watch me, watch me
The belle of the ball
my heart, my hand and everything I own
We are the boys with new shiny shoes
we've seen them all and we've chosen you

I would lie anywhere with you,
any old bed of nails would do,
ink up the wound for a crude tatoo,
a big old red heart with an anchor stuck through

Like a sister Ophelia,
tell me you're there!
Like a lifeline Ophelia,

A big cat, bet you get a lot of that
Went there with no way back
You can look but don't touch
On heat, big cat got a mean streak
No match for this athlete
You can look but don't touch
You can look but don't touch

C’mon we’re young, we’re young
Yet we’ll be dead as soon
C’mon we came, we came
From our mother’s womb to swoon

Brave Bulging Buoyant Clairvoyants
Adopting this young spirit of sin
To make the most, before we turn to ghost

I'm saved
You pull my fingers off the dirt
You pluck me wriggling from the world

I'm saved
You cast me up into the wind
You shuck my body from its skin

Четверо молодых эстетов родом из провинциального английского городка Кендал. Название отсылает к фовизму; в текстах упоминается Аристотель; на своей странице на MySpace группа цитирует Набокова и Кинга — в общем, юноши явно неплохо образованы.

Wild Beasts — это действительно дикая штука: опереточный рок с неочевидными мелодическими структурами, песни с названиями вроде «Смелые разбухшие плывучие ясновидцы», вокалист Хейден Торп, поющий эксцентричным фальцетом; пожалуй, давно не появлялось группы, чью музыку хотелось бы ставить в один ряд с лучшими вещами Sparks.

Sour metal smells in a lonely barrel
don't render me the sorriest parody...

Potty gobbed fickle mob clamour for climax
don't render me the sorriest parody...

Be blasted or be lambasted instead
don't render me the sorriest parody...

The breakfast is all laid out
Waiting for you to arrive

The sun just risen,
And going down again

Deeper
Deeper

Did I judge this wrong?
But you had it all
You had it all

A gift of the gods
In your city of gold
And you'll piss it all
You had it all

***End come to soon***

Break some bread
The night's been blessed
With a neverendingness
But none the less
End come too soon

Turn back, remember that we had a pact
Was never broken
Let the players play
Its the boy's birthday
If they're hungry then just let them eat cake

That's how I get my bang
(We're going darker ages)

===========His Grinning Skull===========

How can you pine anymore?
It is beautiful
and for all
unavoidable
so these are his bones
and his grinning skull

I see our enemies
I see them on their knees
Crawling across The floor
You kill them all

Ourside our door
A gaping hole
Into which all will fall

I find you hidden there a veiled
Creature of the deep
Waifish as a widow
And without sufficient sleep
Oh what am I supposed to think
Do I pull you out
Or do I let you sink

Oh don't you think
That people are the strangest things.
Design of desire
Means all that the heart requires
Is what it can't recognize.

Oh no, hm

All we want is to feel that feeling again
Just a drop on the lips and we're more than equipped
There is some thirst that's gotta be quenched, yeah
All we want is to feel that feeling again
We didn't reach a high it was always inside
We just coaxed it from the place it would hide.

We move in fear, we move in desire

New squeeze, take off your chemise
And I'll do as I please
I know I'm not any kind of heartthrob
But at the same time, I'm not any sort of slob

Yer my plaything, Yer my plaything, Yer my plaything
Yeah I'm wondering', yeah I'm wondering', what you're thinking
Yer my plaything, Yer my plaything, Yer my plaything

PLEASE, SIR

Come to from slumber on bed’s soft tundra
murky with mourn beside dead uniform
and I wish and I hope
and I wish and I hope
with long drag on me smoke
and I wish and I hope

I was angry and brash as a bull
You were devastatingly beautiful

I was crude
I was lewd
I was rude
I was not in the mood

Her fruit was ripe, I bit
Her fruit was ripe, I bit
I'm nothing more than a humble mongrel
Whipped cast, rash and unabashed

Her fruit was ripe, I bit
Her fruit was ripe, I bit
Pungent juice wept from the bruise

This truly is
The Devil's crayon
tracing your shoulderblades
aglow like rayon

This truly is the Devil's crayon
that all his children can use to draw

When we turn up in our turn up s,
our hearts are heavy,
our heads are ready to levy.

For the yippee-less swing,
for the tot-less cot,
for the mock,
for the shock,

By smirking prank of fate,
we find ourselves dancing late,
like young reprobates.
By the milky light of the mighty moon,
find someone to nuzzle to,
and waltz from the room.

We’re all quiffed and cropped,

Bare yourself luver, or don't move me one way or the other.
Like a limp hand raised from a hospital bed,
Don't be silly and squander what yer obliged to accept
When I'm utter putty I'm wetblanketfully lay lumpen
I feel red hot heart's heat beneath left teat a thumpin' oooow
Hold me, hold me, through dark night
With soft snug, in a warm fug, I'm sleepy and satisfied
My mollycoddler treat me like a toddler, I cling to her so tight

I feel as if I've been where you have been
The snow had piled up knee-high in the street
Apart, apart
And dancing on
The wanderer
The squanderer
Our son was dying and we could hardly eat

How the prayer rubs the rosary.
How the make up make her face pretty.
Oh how we have an underbelly,
bitten by brutality.

How there’s guts fried up.
How lothario leers at slut.
Oh how we have an underbelly,

We're decadent beyond our means, with a zeal
We feel the things they’ll never feel
They're solemn in their wealth, we’re high in our poverty
We see the things they never see

Wanderlust: with us the world feels voluptuous
I just feel my way, with us
It's a feeling that I've come to trust

Kick!
The spirit kicks,
but the moonshine plays cheap tricks.
Us kids are cold and cagey rattling around the town,
scaring the oldies into their dressing gowns,
as the dribbling dogs howl.

What so wrong with just a little fun?

Kick!
The spirit kicks,
but the moonshine plays cheap tricks.
Us kids are cold and cagey rattling around the town,
scaring the oldies into their dressing gowns,
as the dribbling dogs howl.

What' so wrong with just a little fun?

Unstable stands aflush with fans
pilfered pies and pints in wobbly hands…
in the bowls of the bar two boys spar
don't flinch an inch and territories marked

Oh I'd swear by my own cock and balls
and the family home's four walls